From the Veins
by Pyro Bear
Summary: Angel a backfired spell brings Tara back from the dead as a four year old. Now the fang gang must watch after her, a small werewolf, and Wesley's teenage brother while trying to stop a group of Spike-worshipping vampires from wreaking havoc.
1. Allergic to Shrimp

My CYA (Covering Your Ass) Statement: I do not own, nor wish (who am I kidding) these canon characters. They belong to Joss Whedon et al. I am not making money off of this. 

* * *

"My name is Tara, and I'm allergic to shrimp." The blonde little girl said to the group of adults that gathered about her. Angel was just standing when she declared this, and missed this. He was rather confused when his colleagues laughed. 

Wesley did not even know why he was laughing. His spell, after all, backfired. They were trying to restore Spike's body through Janus' Invocation. Fred had been worried, which should have worried the former watcher in turn, but strangely, it did not. When she had been assured that Angel was the only possible one who could perform the spell, because they had the same blood running through their veins, she quieted.   
  
The vampire and ghost of a former vampire walked into the room that had been prepared and closed the door. Lorne, Gunn, Wesley, and Fred were left waiting in the small atrium that lead from Wesley's leather padded office with oak. Still they sat, waiting, and hoping for Angel, and of course Spike to come out. When the four heard an explosion, Wesley, and Gunn did not even wait to see if Angel was going to come out, they headed in. Lorne and Fred followed after they saw the coast was clear. 

Smoke was dispersing into the atrium, and then into Wes' office. Spike stood to the side; non-corporeal, while Angel lay sprawled off to the side. Between the two stood a blond little girl, her hair braided into pigtails and she wore a simple yellow sundress with little white flowers. 

"What happened?" Fred asked, looking at Spike, who just rather stood there, his arms crossed over his chest. 

"Don't rightly know, luv. Peaches finished saying the words and boom, the platelet was here," Spike nodded to the girl. 

"You invoked Janus. Mommy said never to invoke a god, they have too much magic," the little girl nodded hastily. "We're just learning about magic. She said it'd be our secret." Her eyes widened, and her hands clapped over her mouth. "I wasn't supposed to say that, I'll get in trouble." 

"We won't tell," Fred kneeled down. "Can you tell me who you are, and where you live?" 

The girl nodded, "My name is Tara, and I'm allergic to shrimp." 

  
The boy grinned, his dark gray eyes flashing. "Wicked," he whispered to himself as he entered the password. The name Wolfram and Hart flashed by briefly before taking him to another page. A page with names of employees listed. Scrolling down quickly, he clicked on the name he needed. 

"Found ya," he said as he quickly wrote down what he found before exiting and shutting down the computer.   


Spike stood there, when he heard the little girl say her name. "Say that again pet?" he asked. 

"My name is Tara Maclay," she said brightly. 

"Glinda," he said softly. Nobody heard him because Harmony, followed by a Hispanic man with a slight beer belly, rushed in. 

"Boss!" the blonde vampire, cried. "There's been a security breech!" 

Angel whipped around, and focused his attention on the man behind Harmony. "What is it?" 

"There's been a hacker sir," the man reported, wiping his hands upon his tan pants. 

"Don't we have some kind of protection for that?" Fred asked Gunn off to the side. The black man nodded, but failed to say a thing. 

Angel looked at the security guard. "And?" 

The man was confused, "Sir?" 

"There was a hacker," Angel spoke slowly, as if he was talking to a child, "What did they hack into, and why?" 

Again, the Hispanic man wiped his hands upon his tan pants. "Well sir, they hacked into the main server through our website, specifically into personal records of our employees. We do not know why at this time." 

"Well, get on it!" Angel said quickly, wanting to get to the matter of the blonde little girl named Tara Maclay. He had no idea why that name sounded so familiar.   


Tara wondered around the plush office that led right out of the room where the entire grown up stood around asking silly questions about things she did not understand. She looked at the big desk and something shiny caught her eye. 

"Pretty," she whispered to herself, because you always used an indoor voice while inside, which is what her Mommy always said. 

She scrambled onto the chair and then reached for the object that caught her fancy. It was a photo of a child. It was Christmas, as there were scraps of wrapping paper about the boy, but he did not pay any attention of brand new toys around him, instead, it was all focused on the guitar in hand. 

"Little girls must not touch things that are not theirs," Wesley said as he lifted the frame out of Tara's hands. 

"Whose that?" she asked innocently. 

"It's no one, no one at all," Wesley said as he opened a draw and slid it in, locking it after the drawer was fully closed. 


	2. Pretty Fishies

My CYA (Covering Your Ass) Statement: I do not own, nor wish (who am I kidding) these canon characters. They belong to Joss Whedon et al. I am not making money off of this. 

A/N: Oops, forgot to thank a couple of people last time. Mostly Jen (gidgetgirl), A (cloudofcalm), and Mel (Baysidegal). They either a)gave me ideas b)made me write c)gave me a review d) all of the above. So much thankage from me to them. 

Oh, and thanks for all the reviews last chapter. Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 

* * *

Today was the day, he decided. Tomorrow was the housekeeper's day off, and she had already left for the day. His tutor would come tomorrow, but that would be quickly remedied by a note, in his usual chicken scratch, that he was out with a group of friends. 

Walking up to his room, he looked mournfully at the drum set that sat in the corner closest to the window. That would have to stay. Somehow, he would survive without them. Dragging out a duffel bag, he began to throw clothes, whichever smelled clean at least into it. Throwing in his favorite pair of drumsticks, for luck he told himself, he picked up his guitar case and suitcase and was gone. 

He was going to America.   


"What are we going to do with her?" Gunn asked, meaning the blonde little girl who currently wandered out of the office. 

The group looked at one another while Tara made her way out into the hall where a giant fish tank took up the upper half of the whole wall. What looked like thousands of brightly colored fish darted in and out of plants. 

"Fishies," she said to herself, grinning, as she pressed up against the fish tank. Her palms were on either side of her face, which was making its mark on the pristine glass. A passing fish blinked at her and then swam away quickly when Tara waved at it. 

"Pretty aren't they pet?" Spike crouched down to her level. She looked at the ghost, her attention diverted. 

"I like kitties better," she declared. "I always wanted one, but Danny's allergic to him, like shrimp. 'Sides Daddy likes doggies," Tara wrinkled her nose. "I don't like doggies, they're loud and messy, and, and," she stopped for a moment and thought about what she was going to say. "And they smell," she whispered conspiracy. She grinned suddenly. "Do you like kitties?" she asked. 

Spike thought for a moment about what he knew about Tara. She was a witch, and a right powerful one. Her father and brother were tyrants and she thought she was part demon until he hit her in the nose. She and Red had also adopted a cat, he thought it's name was Miss Kitty Fantasico, but he wasn't sure. However, it always had been underfoot at the Summer's house. "I like kitties," he felt ridiculous saying it, but he liked see her smile. 

"Spike? Do you know where Tara is?" Fred walked out of Wesley's office and saw them together. When Spike saw Fred, he stood up quickly. 

"Spike, that's really your name?" Tara asked, scrunching up her nose, making a face. 

He looked down upon the little girl, "What's that to you, ankle biter?" He raised his eyebrow, and tried not to smile. 

"Nothing Mr. Spike," Tara said innocently, eyes wide. "It's cool!" her head bobbed up and down quickly. 

Spike grimaced slightly as he heard the mister tacked onto his name, but brightened instantly when Glinda, the mini witch, complimented him. "Hear that Fred, I'm cool." 

Fred blinked. Spike sounded proud of himself? Shaking her head, she the scientist grabbed Tara's hand and led her into Wesley's office. When the little girl saw all eyes on her, she hid behind Spike. Ever so often, she would peer out from behind him. 

"Tara, Tara Maclay," Angel muttered to himself. Then he got it. "That's Willow's girlfriend?" he asked. 

Spike shot him a look, "Bravo Peaches," he smirked. 

"Yes, that would be Tara Maclay, deceased, formerly Willow Rosenburg's girlfriend," Eve, dressed in the usual skirt and dress top walked into Wesley's office. "I have to hand it to you," she looked at Angel, "a couple of mispronounced words and voila, you have one of the most powerful witches in the last decade at your fingertips in the form of a four year old child," she smirked at Angel, "Bravo," she said. 

"So my spell did not backfire?" Wesley asked from behind his desk. 

"No, a few mispronounced words and Angel folded time, bringing her here," Eve explained sauntering over to Wesley's desk and sat down. "So what are you going to do about it?" She asked.   


He looked at the building and sighed. The nine hours on the plane were monotonous, and it was only broken up by the one-hour layover in New York. Buzzing into the front desk, he made sure to make his eyes wide and innocent. 

"Hello, I'm looking for Wesley Whydam-Pryce," he said as the security guard came and opened the door. 

"Apartment 2A," the man said gruffly and he hurried past the man and into the elevator. 

When he reached the apartment's door he stood back and looked at it. Then reaching up, he searched the door jam until he found a key. Grabbing it, he stuffed it into the lock. It swung open. "Jackpot," he whispered to himself as he dragged his two bags in.   


Honestly, Angel did not know how he got roped into do this. One minute he was free to do what he liked after everyone went home for the night, and now he was responsible for a blonde four-year-old. However, she was a cute blonde four-year-old. 

"Tell me a story," Tara said as she sat on Angel's bed, one of his t-shirts hung off her, making her look even smaller than she already was. He made a mental note to himself to have Harmony have someone get the little girl some clothes of her own. 

"Um…okay," Angel said awkwardly as he sat down next to Tara. "There once was a little girl called Red Riding Hood…." 

"Oh come on man, can't you think up something better than that?" Spike appeared and sat down on Tara's other side. 

Angel glared over Tara's head, "Fine then, you tell her a story." 

Spike nodded, "Right then." He looked at Tara. "The bed time story I'm going to tell you is not the socially oppressing one that Peaches was going to tell you," Spike composed to himself, "Instead, I'm going to tell you a story where everyone has social status they deserve." 

Tara blinked, but said nothing. 

"Right then," Spike said. "There once was a young person named Red Riding Hood who lived with her mother on the edge of a large wood. One day her mother asked her to take a basket of fresh fruit and mineral water to her grandmother's house—not because this was womyn's work, mind you, but because the deed was generous and helped engender a feeling of community. Furthermore, her grandmother was _not_ sick, but rather was in full physical and mental health and was fully capable of taking care of herself as a mature adult…."   


Wesley walked into his apartment building and with the customary nod to the security guard, he made his way to the stairs. Walking up one floor, Wesley ambled down the hall until he reached his own apartment. Idly he wondered why he let himself get wrapped up in so many things. Jamming the key into the lock, with one turn to the doorknob, the door swung open. 

He stopped, and stared into the living room. "Andy?"   


"He is here, on our soil. The Exalted One!" a mouse brown haired vampire named Dimitri stoop upon a dais made of broken old wooden crates. He and a crowd made up of about six other vampires were in an abandoned warehouse in Nevada. 

"Where is he? Where is the one who saw the great beyond? Where is the one who saw our home?" Another vampire called out, this one a flaxen haired and woman with a large chest by the name Delia. 

"The City of Angels," Dimitri called out, looking at each and every of the vampires, including Delia and the other five that stood slightly below him. 

"But that's the City of the Souled one, the Defiled One!" This time, a male vampire named Antonio called out, his voice a hiss. 

Dimitri held his head high, composing himself. "And the Exalted One shall triumph over the Defiled One. That is how it is written, and that is how it shall be!" 

* * *

Question for y'all. Short and sweet chapters every couple days, or longer and fuller chapters every week or so? Thanks for the reviews again. 


	3. Pretty Lady

My CYA (Covering Your Ass) Statement: I do not own, nor wish (who am I kidding) these canon characters. They belong to Joss Whedon et al. I am not making money off of this. 

Thanks for all the reviews. A total of 16. That was spiffeh. I don't think I've gotten so many for one chapter. I guess y'all like this, and I guess I'll keep writing as you keep reading. 

* * *

The boy grinned, "Hi Wes." Andy sat on Wesley's couch, shoes off, guitar in hand. Hs head was bent over the strings; he strummed them gently. 

Before he could think, he blurted out, "What are you doing here?" Wesley's voice sounded harsh, even to his own ears. Andy's face fell and Wesley started to curse himself silently. "Andy-Boy. I didn't mean it like that." The man sighed tiredly. "I just didn't expect you. While talking to Mum and Father, they didn't say anything about a visit." 

Andy grinned widely. The previous crestfallen look was forgotten. "It was a surprise!" he said gleefully as he stood and walked over. "I'm in between tutors at the moment, and since Mum and Father are away in Rome for the next month, we all thought it would be a great surprise for you." 

Wesley found himself smiling. "It's good to have you," he said, wrapping his arms around the teenage boy. 

To his surprise, Andy accepted the hug, and even hugged back. "It's good be here," he whispered and then stood back. 

"My you've grown," Wesley stepped back and looked down at his teenage brother. His hair had darkened from a pale blonde to a chestnut hue. It curled around the sides of his face, giving the teen an innocent look. Some pieces of hair fell into blue-grey eyes that peeked out under long lashes. The boy stood right to under Wesley's chin. 

"It's good to be here," Andy repeated, but Wesley didn't even bother to correct him. 

"Are you hungry, thirsty, tired?" the older man wanted to know. 

Andy shook his head, "I'm good," he announced.   


"And they settled in the woods in a commune based on mutual respect," Spike finished looked back down at Tara, who was curled up, thumb in her mouth, sleeping. 

"What was that?" Angel hissed softly as he lifted Tara up into his arms. She moaned a little bit at being disturbed, but once she became comfortable, she quieted. 

"What was what?" Spike asked, still sitting on Angel's bed. 

"The politically correct bedtime story?" Angel clarified, his voice still harsh. "Usually you're the a big softy hiding behind your Big Bad exterior." Angel waited for a moment. "_Casper_." 

"She's got to grow up sometime," Spike explained. "We're living in a liberal time." He too waited for a second. "_Peaches_." 

"What?" Angel asked. "We're not going to _keep_ her!" He looked down at the little blonde girl that slept in his arms. When he looked up, Spike was gone.   


"Charles, I don't know if you want to, but would you like to go out and help me pick up a few things for Tara?" Fred leaned on the door jam of Gunn's office. 

The black man sat at his desk, typing on his shiny new laptop. "Who?" he looked up. "Oh, the little blonde girl? Wait a moment and we'll go." 

Fred nodded silently, and watched as he finished up his work. She had never really noticed it before, but he looked different in the suit he was wearing. It was a real change from the usual baggy clothes. It wasn't good, nor was it bad, just...different. 

"Ready," Gunn stood, while closing the top of his computer. Throwing on a sport coat, they walked out of his office. "So what's the plan?" he asked as they waited for the elevator to take them to where Fred's car was parked. 

"Some clothes, toys, and perhaps a video or two," Fred shrugged. They stepped into the elevator, and Fred hit the button for the correct parking garage. "I really don't know what to get her." 

"She's supposed to be about Cordy's age, right?" Gunn asked. The pair were silent for a while. They both missed the straight talking part-demon seer. "You know if she hadn't been pulled out of time?" 

Fred nodded as the doors opened. There was an uneasy silence as they walked to her car. "So, do you think there is anything we really need to get her?" 

Gunn rattled off a few things and the two talked about trivial things for the rest of the trip.   


Tara blinked as she wandered the halls of the Wolfram and Hart building. They were dark and deserted. She shivered slightly; she didn't like the dark. 

Turning the corner, the four-year-old was faced with a door. Pushing it open, she found a woman lying in a bed. She reminded the four-year-old of Princess Buttercup from the Princess Bride, her favorite movie. "Hello Pretty Lady," she whispered. The giant had been another favorite character.   


"The Exalted One needs his strength," Delia called as they entered the city of Los Angeles. A female by the name of Anna was driving; Dimitri was in the passenger's seat. Behind the two of them, Delia and another sat behind them. Antonio and two others sat behind the. 

"A sacrifice!" Antonio cheered from the way back. His hands were balled into fists and they were raised as he cheered. 

"Stop that," Anna snapped. "You're distracting me. Unless you want to start waking in he nice crispy sun, there will be no distractions." 

"But Antonio is right, the Exalted One will need his strength," Dimitri agreed. "There will be a sacrifice."   


"So what do you think of this?" Gunn held up a pink ruffled dress. 

Fred eyed it critically. "She's four years old and wearing a yellow sundress. Somehow I don't think she's much for the pink ruffles." Gunn shrugged and went to go find something else. 

The cart they had was already half filled with various children's items. There were crayons, markers, coloring books, stuffed animals, puzzles, board games, a couple of Disney videos, dolls, and Barbies. Fred had a sneaking suspicion that Gunn had put a plastic warrior-armor set, complete with plastic shield and sword. 

"What about this?" Gunn held up a white dress with little green flowers all over it. Though it wasn't as frilly as the last dress, there was lace around the hem. Fred shrugged. The little girl needed clothes, but some how, Tara didn't really seem like the child that would want to wear a dress 24/7. 

"How about some jeans and tee-shirts?" Fred suggested as Gunn dropped the dress into cart.   


"How are you Andy?" Wesley asked as the two of them sat down at a close fast food joint. Wesley wasn't much of a cook past throwing something in the microwave, and he didn't have anything in the freezer. 

"Good," the teenager said as he took a sip of the chocolate milkshake that he had gotten. "Medication works most of the time. If not, I've got drums and other stuff." 

"Mum made you bring it with you, right?" Wesley asked reproachfully. 

Andy nodded, "I'm pretty sure I packed it." Inwardly he groaned. He had forgotten that. This was going to be a trip for sure. 

"I haven't seen you in the last five and a half years, so what are you doing now. You're very different at age fourteen than age nine," Wesley looked at his teenage brother. 

Andy shrugged, "I still play the piano, but not as much as Mum would like. My guitar is my baby, and I have a drum set sitting in my room." 

"Do you still ride?" Wesley asked. 

Again, Andy shrugged. "Not so much now. Appointments to various doctors keep us busy, along with the blow up of the watcher's council. It's a nasty business. Father wasn't very happy when he found out that the Sunnydale Slayer, Bunny, activated all potential slayers. People are doing damage control." 

"Buffy," Wesley corrected. 

"What?" Andy looked up from his cheeseburger. 

"Buffy, her name was Buffy," Wesley clarified. 

"Oh," Andy took another bite of the hamburger, chewed, and swallowed. "Whatever." 


End file.
